Fireflies
by laynee
Summary: John, Dean and Sam head to Bobby's for the yearly gathering of friends and hunters. It starts out relaxing and fun just like always, but something dark has its sight set on John's youngest. Hurt/scared Sam, 7; worried/hurt Dean, 11; worried John
1. Easier

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Don't be fooled by the happy beginning, I don't write fluff without reason, so don't worry – there will be plenty of anti-fluff later…..followed by more fluff, cause we all like fluffy endings with the Winchesters.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Sam is 7, and Dean is 11

-/\-SN-/\-

The warm July sun poured through the windshield, countered only by the windows open wide. The highway rushed past them, music turned up to be heard over the rush of the wind. John glanced in the mirror at Sam, the boy's small hand out the window dipping up and down as he tilted his hand like the wing of a plane. A smile was spread across the boy's face, his dark hair whipped in front of and away from his joyful eyes. Dean was leaned back in the seat with a smile on his face as he hummed along with the radio, AC/DC's Back in Black.

Summer was always easier, less for John to worry about which made him more relaxed and more like the father he always tried to be for his boys. The days longer, the nights shorter, warm sun and his boys happier. No school to fight with over admitting his boys midway through the year, no worries about them missing too many days, no arguing with Dean over the necessity of homework. Sam had finished first grade and Dean had finished fifth. John was a little worried how Sam would take it now that Dean would be moving into middle school in the fall, but that was months away and he pushed it from his mind.

John leaned back, one hand on top of the steering wheel, the other tapping along on the door. He smiled a little and glanced over at his boys again, happy that they were happy. They weren't heading to a job, not this time, just to Bobby's, it was tradition.

Every summer, mid-July or so, they'd all meet at Bobby's (because he had the most room) for a few days. Pastor Jim, Caleb, Missouri, Ellen and Bill with Jo and Joshua were the usuals, but it wasn't unheard of to see Jefferson, Daniel Elikns or Pamela Barnes either. It had started a few years back, by accident, just coincidence that a handful of the group had shown up around the same time. They spent the evenings drinking beer and telling stories about successful and interesting hunts, a way to see what was going on out there and a way to keep in contact with each other. It became something looked forward to, something written in on calendars; a break from it all and a time to relax with trusted friends.

It was with that in mind that John had taken to the road again. The miles and hours passed in a rush of highway scenery.

"Sam, you ready for some dinner?" John looked in the mirror again.

The boy looked up from the superhero action figures in his hands and smiled. "Uh huh."

"Dean?"

Dean glanced back at Sam. "I was ready an hour ago." He smiled.

John laughed slightly, Dean had been going through a pre-teen growth spurt, and was almost always hungry; though John couldn't remember a time when Dean had turned down a meal. He eased the car onto an exit ramp and pulled into a fast food place. His boys scrambled from the car and ran to the doors, John a few steps behind.

Sam hung on the counter, his chin just cleared the top, as John ordered. Dean grabbed Sam's arm to go wash up for dinner. The smaller boy tripped slightly on his untied shoelaces, but his older brother kept him from crashing to the floor. John smiled at them with a small shake of his head.

His boys met him outside at the table. Sam climbed onto the seat and sat on his knees as he dipped his french-fries in catsup. Dean took a mouthful of his hamburger and sighed happily. They ate with other happy families around them as they all enjoyed the summer evening.

Sam's eyes drifted over to a nearby family. He watched as the mom wiped mustard from her son's face, the boy squirmed away and laughed. Dean saw the small, longing smile on his brother's face and stole a fry as a diversion.

"Hey." Sam turned. "You have your own."

He shrugged. "Yours are better."

"They're the same." He smiled.

Dean reached for another. "Then I'd better have another to make sure."

John watched the playful fight between his boys for a few seconds. "You boys done?"

They both nodded and shoved a few last minute fries in their mouths. John took the wrappers and dumped it in a nearby trashcan. The small family climbed back into the car and John returned to the highway.

The setting sun glowed orange inside the car. Sam sat with his head leaned back and his eyes unfocused on the landscape that blurred by. Eventually he gave into the warm air and fell asleep against the door, his hands relaxed and open in his lap. Dean was better at saying awake, he never had been as comforted by the car as his brother. He figured it was probably because Sam had spent more of his life in the backseat, more time rocked to sleep by the road and the engine.

"How much longer 'till Bobby's?" Dean asked and fought back a yawn.

"An hour or so." John glanced over. "I'll wake you when we get there."

Dean shook his head and watched the sun dip under the horizon, turning the sky indigo-gray in twilight. He was asleep within fifteen minutes. John turned the music up a little and sang along when he knew the words, which was most of the songs by this point.

By the time the car pulled into the driveway that circled the side of Bobby's house, it was dark. The back porch light was on and cast a yellow light over the parked cars. There were a few more working cars in the driveway and John recognized most of them. He smiled as the back door opened and Caleb and Jim came down the steps.

John reached over and touched Dean's shoulder. "Dean."

The boy's eyes blinked open. He looked over at his dad and then at the friends that approached the car. With a wide smile, he ran from the car. While Caleb and Jim were commenting on how much Dean had grown, John carefully took Sam from the back seat. The boy half woke, but then just buried his face in his father's shirt collar, his small hand gripped a fistful of shirt.

"Come on, sport." Caleb playfully punched Dean's shoulder. "Let's get those bags."

John tossed them the keys as they passed.

Jim ran his hand over Sam's head. "He's grown, too."

John smiled. "No matter what I do."

"Want me to take him"

"I got him." John navigated the stairs.

John carried his youngest to the back bedroom and placed him on the bed. The window was open, a small fan sat in the corner and tried to move the warm air. He slipped off the boy's shoes and tugged the shirt from his small body. Sam's eyes blinked open for a moment, but he didn't wake.

Dean and Caleb slipped into the room and placed a bag by the bed. Dean pulled out pajamas for his brother and basketball shorts for himself. John tugged Sam's shorts off and pulled the pajamas onto the sleeping boy.

"Dean." John rested a hand on his son's head, his words quiet. "Get ready for bed."

"But I want to stay up with you." He glanced out in the hall to where Caleb stood. "I'm not even tired." He yawned.

John smiled. "You can stay up tomorrow night, that's when everyone will be here anyway."

Dean rubbed a hand across his eyes and nodded. While he changed into the shorts, John leaned over and brushed Sam's hair back from his face. Dean carefully climbed onto the bed, Sam between him and the wall, like always.

John rested his hand on Dean's cheek. "Good night, Dean."

"G'night." Dean yawned again.

"Good night, Sammy." John whispered and slipped from the room.

He closed the door part way and went with Caleb to the front porch where Jim and Bobby waited with a cooler of beer.


	2. Reunion

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

And so ends the beginning fluff……..I warned you.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Sam is 7, and Dean is 11

-/\-SN-/\-

Sam woke to a dark room and Dean asleep next to him. He didn't know what woke him and it took him a few minutes to figure out where he was. Then he smiled when he knew he was at Bobby's. The night was almost too warm to sleep comfortably and Sam kicked away the sheet that tried to cover his legs.

Something flickered outside the window and he sat up. He climbed to the end of the bed and sat on his knees with his hands on the open windowsill. Fireflies flickered in the dark outside the window, silent as they appeared and disappeared in some secret dance on the summer breeze. He marveled at them, wanted to see them closer. He pressed his nose against the screen and watched, eyes wide with wonder.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was thick with sleep.

He turned. "Fireflies, Dean."

Dean sighed and rolled over as he muttered. "They'll be there tomorrow night, go back to sleep."

"Can I catch them tomorrow?" He rubbed his hand across his eyes and tried to fight sleep because he wanted to watch the fireflies more.

"Unless I tie you to the bed." Dean sat up and grabbed Sam's shirt. "Come on."

He pulled his little brother back to the pillow, Sam was sleepy enough to allow it with minimal fighting. He sighed and let his eyes slip closed again.

"Will you help me catch them?" He wiggled next to his brother.

Dean sighed and slung an arm over his brother. "Yes, but only if you go to sleep and stop asking questions."

"'Kay." He breathed.

Dean waited until he was sure that Sam was asleep again. "G'night, dork." He fell back asleep with Sam's little fingers wrapped in the edge of his older brother's shirt.

--

Sam and Dean played in the front yard as chairs were set up and more people arrived. The day was warm and both boys' hair was slicked down with sweat, they didn't care. John watched them run in dizzying circles with a smile and found himself wishing that they could all stay like that.

Bill, Ellen and Jo arrived shortly before dinner. They brought chicken to be grilled and corn to be husked. Jo joined in with whatever game Dean and Sam were playing, she could keep up with both of them just fine. The three ran through the yard, lean and tan, carefree. John and Bill went over to man the grill. Joshua showed up with beer and joined the group of filled lawn chairs.

The evening had the feel of a family reunion, but with people that they wanted to see rather than had to see. For a lot of the group, this was basically the only family they had, and that suited them just fine. The agenda was nothing other than relaxing, drinking and catching up.

Jo, Dean and Sam were rounded up for dinner and given bottles of icy root beer rather than the beer that their parents drank. The warm summer evening fell around the yard, lanterns were found and lit, islands of light in the center of picnic tables and on the corners of the porch.

The first timid fireflies appeared among the tall grass in the ditch and along the edge of the woods. Sam tore himself away from the game of tag and watched them. He turned with a smile and ran to John. He leaned on the arm of the chair his father occupied.

"What's up, Sammy?" John smiled.

Sam whispered. "Can I have a jar to catch fireflies?"

John laughed a little. "Go on and ask Bobby."

The boy went over to Bobby's side and asked again.

Bobby ruffled Sam's hair. "Sure. Jim, want to help Sammy find a few jars for fireflies?"

Jim stood and Sam followed him up to the house. After a few minutes Sam ran down the porch steps with a jar gripped in his hand.

"Dean, will you help me?" Sam ran up to his brother.

Dean sighed, but smiled. "Sure."

Like a good big brother, he helped Sam catch fireflies. Sam's small hand was cupped around the jar as he held it up to his eyes. A handful of fireflies blinked between his palms, his dark eyes bright with excitement. It wasn't long before Jo was out there with a jar as well, trying to catch her own.

Sam ran over to John. "Look." He smiled.

John carefully took the jar and peered inside. "What are you going to do with them?"

The boy shrugged, he hadn't thought about that.

"You can't keep them forever, Sammy."

"I know. Maybe I'll let them go before I have to go to bed." He smiled as John handed the jar back.

He watched his boy run back towards Jo and his brother.

It grew closer to midnight, but nobody had any particular place to be in the morning. With the coolers still well stocked and good friends, the late hour was ignored. Jo came over and sat on her father's lap. Bill wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Sam?" Dean's voice had the starting edge of worry. "Sammy?"

John sat forward, stood. He scanned the dark yard for his boy. Instantly the mood of the evening changed, the carefree relaxation dissipated into tense worry.

Dean ran over to John, his eyes wide with worry. "I don't know where Sam is." He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

John gripped his son's shoulder. "It's okay, Dean."

Bill stood, his daughter still in his arms. "Ellen, take her inside."

Ellen took Jo from her husband and went inside.

"Dean, head on in."

"I'm going to help you find him." His words were firm, his eyes hard with determination.

John couldn't explain why his heart felt tight with worry, why he was so on edge. It was likely that Sam had just fallen asleep somewhere, but for a reason that John couldn't explain, he knew that wasn't true. Quickly the group split up to look for the boy.

Dean, John, Bobby and Jim took the yard and the woods, the others searched in and around the house. The dark night echoed with calls of "Sam?" and "Sammy." John kept one eye on Dean, but the boy stayed close.

"Dad."

John stopped and turned. Dean stood, his eyes locked on something a few feet away, near the woods. Sam's jar of fireflies, tipped on its side and the glass cracked. John's heart stopped for a second, he was sure of it.

"Bobby, Jim." John called before he started for a narrow trail through the trees.

If there was one thing that John was thankful about this entire situation, was that his friends, who happened to be hunters, were there. John could hardly hear the footsteps behind him. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he would find his son.

Sam woke up on the ground, curled near the base of a thick tree. He didn't know how he got there, didn't know where he was. He wanted to yell for help, but found himself unable to make a sound. Something dark covered him, his eyes wide with fear and then there was nothing.

John had been silently counting the minutes they had been searching. Fifty-two, fifty-two minutes that his son had been missing, fifty-two minutes that seemed like the longest hours of his life.

The search party stumbled into a clearing and paused, they were all too well trained to trust silence and stillness. Something shifted in the dark, near the ground. It took John a second to recognize his son. He ran to the boy and pulled him into his arms. Sam shivered from fear, his skin damp and cool.

"Sammy." John stood with his son in his arms.

Bobby stood back with his hand on Dean's shoulder as Jim walked over to the reunited father and son. "Is he all right?"

John felt Sam's fingers tighten around fistfuls of shirt. "Let's just get him back to the house."

It took them less time to get back to the house, or maybe the minutes just seemed shorter because there was no longer the fear of unknown weighing on all of them. The lights in the house glowed like lighthouses welcoming sailors back from the sea.

Bill met them on the porch. "I'll let the others know he's okay."

John nodded thanks and stepped into the house. He sat at the kitchen table, Sam still in his arms.

"Dad?" Dean's voice was quiet. "Is he okay?"

He met his son's eyes. "This wasn't your fault."

Bobby pulled up a chair next to John. "How is he?"

John tried to shift Sam so he could get a look at the boy, but he hung on tighter. "You're okay, Sammy. Nothing's going to hurt you anymore. I need to see if you're hurt."

Jim rested his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Let's go in the other room, Dean."

"No." Dean's eyes were fixed on Sam.

Sam released his grip some and John shifted the boy to his lap. Sam's eyes reflected fear and pain, he tried not to cry, but his bottom lip quivered and a tear traced another clean path down his pale cheeks. John's well-trained eyes caught the smear of blood on Sam's shirt, the way the boy held his right arm close to him.

Carefully John took Sam's arm and turned it so he could see. On the inside of Sam's wrist, too close to the veins, were two puncture marks from what John was pretty certain to be fangs.

John pressed a handkerchief to the still bleeding wound. "Bobby."

Bobby grabbed the first-aid kit from the cupboard.


	3. Watching

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

There's still some fluff, but it's completely overruled by other things. I also gave you some answers….and some questions. Enjoy.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Sam is 7, and Dean is 11

-/\-SN-/\-

"Where did you find him?" Bill asked.

John glanced over his shoulder. "A clearing about a half mile in."

He nodded and left the room. John carefully cleaned and bandaged Sam's arm. He winced, but kept still and silent. Small tremors still racked his body as he sat in the protection of his father's arms.

"You're okay, Sammy." John muttered against the back of his son's head.

"…daddy?" His voice was small, hesitant.

"I'm right here." He tightened his hold on his son a little.

"John." Bobby looked up from repacking the first-aid kit.

He looked up at his friend. "I'll get there, just, just give him a moment."

Dean stepped forward, slowly. Sam looked over at his brother, the little boy's face blank, but his eyes dark with fear. Without a word having to be spoken, Dean grabbed Sam's little hand in his.

"John, I don't need to tell you how important this is." Bobby's voice was low and determined.

John closed his eyes for a moment. "Sammy." He shifted the boy in his lap so he could look into the fear-filled features. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Sam swallowed, his eyes a little bigger. His bottom lip trembled again and silent tears gathered in his eyes.

"I know you're scared, but I need to know so I can help you." He took a breath. "What happened, Sam."

"Dad." Dean met his father's eyes.

"Sam, what happened?" It nearly broke John's heart. "I know you're scared, but I also know that you're brave enough to do this."

Sam swallowed. "…catching fireflies." He took a shuddering breath. "I don't know. I'm sorry." He whispered, a tear traced another path down his dirt-smudged cheek.

John wrapped his arms around his boy and held him close. "That's okay, you did just fine."

He stayed with his son in his arms for silent minutes, feeling the little boy just breathe. After a while he glanced down and saw that Sam was asleep. He carefully stood and carried his boy down the hall, Dean followed silently behind. John didn't bother changing Sam into pajamas, he didn't want to risk waking him.

"Dean, watch over him, just until I come back." John glanced over at Dean with a wink.

John placed Sam on the bed and Dean climbed up next to him, his arm over his little brother. John rested his hands on his sons' heads and turned to Jim and Bill in the doorway. He glanced at his boys and then stepped out of the room.

John sat at the kitchen table with Bobby, Jim, Bill and Caleb. Each had a beer in front of them, John's eyes on the table.

"Bill, Ellen and Jo get home all right?" John glanced up.

Bill nodded. "Called a few minutes ago."

John wanted to be with his boys, but knew this was important to their safety. "What do you know?"

Bill sighed, took a drink. "It was definitely something supernatural, though I'm not sure what exactly. It didn't leave much evidence."

"Well, at least I don't need to worry about finding an anti-venom." John muttered.

Jim leaned forward. "John, I know you want to be with your boys, and you will be, soon."

John nodded. "Any theories? Bobby, Caleb, you've both been quiet."

Caleb glanced up from the table. "We're thinking it took some of his blood, that'd be one of the only reasons for the puncture wounds."

Bobby nodded slowly. "So, what likes the taste of blood?"

"Daddy!" Sam's terrified scream cut through the house.

John was on his feet in an instant, the group at the table behind him. When he reached the door of the room, Dean had his arms around Sam. The little boy was terrified, tears streamed down his face, his breath short in terrified gasps. John crossed the room in two steps.

"Sammy?" John knelt in front of his boys.

"He had a nightmare." Dean quietly said.

John took Sam from Dean's arms and felt the little arms tight around his neck. He reached over and gently squeezed Dean's shoulder.

He looked to the group at the door. "If you learn anything else, let me know. I need to stay with my boys."

Bobby nodded, a half smile brushed across his face. "I'll bring in one of the army cots."

"Thank you." John sat on the edge of the bed, Dean leaned against him.

Sam shoved his thumb in his mouth, something he had outgrown by the age of four. That small movement told Dean exactly how scared his little brother was. He reached up and ran his fingers through his brother's hair.

"What did you dream, Sammy?" John hated to do it.

"Dad." Dean warned.

Sam shook his head, thumb firmly in his mouth.

"It's okay, Sammy, you don't have to tell me." John put one arm around Dean and pulled him closer.

Slowly, and not without fighting, Sam fell back asleep only from exhaustion. Dean was half asleep as it was. John carefully eased Sam onto the bed and Dean automatically stretched out next to him, an arm protectively over his baby brother. John moved to the cot and saw with his elbows rested on his knees, his eyes on his boys.

Bobby or Jim passed the room a few times, John wasn't sure which, but he knew the sentiment; we have your back. His attention was drawn away from his boys for a moment, at the fireflies dancing outside the window. He remembered how just a few hours ago Sam was so excited that he had a jarful, a light he could hold in his hands, magic and amazing. Weariness washed over John, his eyes dazed as he watched the light flicker outside.

Sam woke, afraid of the dark until he saw the fireflies again. A small smile ghosted his face and he slipped out from under Dean's arm. He crawled to the window, pressed his nose against the screen. His little fingers fumbled with the screen and he managed to lift the screen. He slipped out, dropped the three feet to the ground in his bare feet. The fireflies circled around him, pulled and guided him towards the woods. The little boy didn't fight it at all.

"Dad!" Dean's voice was bright with fear.

John snapped awake, never even aware of falling asleep. Instantly he looked over at the bed where Dean knelt, his eyes raw with panic. He didn't see Sam.

John grabbed Dean's arm. "Where's Sam?"

Unshed tears glistened in Dean's eyes. "I don't know."

Fear quickened John's heartbeat and he looked towards the window, the screen still open. He lunged for it, looked for any sign of his boy and saw only night darkened woods.

"Go wake up Bobby, Bill, everyone." His voice didn't shake, he thought it would.

Within five minutes everyone stood in the kitchen, dressed and armed. John kept one hand on Dean's shoulder, he was focused and anxious, they both were.

"Same as before." Bill glanced at John and took control. "Half of us in the woods one way, half the other."

"We all should go to the clearing." Joshua said.

John's voice was rough. "He might not be there yet, or he might be someplace else. We're wasting time."

John, Dean, Bill and Jim headed towards the clearing. Bobby, Caleb and Joshua went into the woods. Dean was silent with determination, his hand clenched around the handle of a silver knife. The woods were too still, too quiet, that put everyone on edge.

Sam blinked his eyes open, he didn't know where he was. "Daddy?" His voice trembled.

"No. Not daddy." The icy voice came from behind Sam.

He turned, saw the dark figure and felt fear tighten in his lungs. The figure was lean, dark features, looked to be fourteen. His black eyes were cold, black hair shadowing his face more than the night. Black wings sprouted from his shoulder blades, through carefully cut holes in his black shirt. When he smiled, fangs glinted in the light of the fireflies that drifted in the air.

He knelt in front of Sam and grabbed his small wrist. He pulled the gauze and tape from Sam's skin and smiled.

"You see, Sam. I have tasted many people, but when I sensed and later tasted you, well, I knew I had found something special." He brought Sam's wrist to his lips and bit.

Sam gasped in pain.

"Very special." He looked up into Sam's eyes. "As I feed, I inject you with a sedative, you will sleep and then die."

Sam tried to stand, but dizziness pushed him to the ground. Pain flared through his wrist as he was bit again, a new wound though the first still bled.

"Daddy." He slurred. "Dean." His eyes slipped closed.

"Very special." He smiled, licked the blood from his lips and brought Sam's wrist to his mouth again.


	4. Worry

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Mmmmm, suspense and more answers. Enjoy.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Sam is 7, and Dean is 11

-/\-SN-/\-

They moved through the woods with more urgency than before. Whatever had taken Sam the first time had taken him again and now everyone knew it was dangerous. The night was dark, and not just because the moon didn't hang in the sky.

Dean stumbled over an unseen rock and crashed to the ground. He winced at the pain that shot through his hand as he tried to untangle himself from the thorn bush he fell into.

"Dean?" John's voice was low, quiet.

"Go, find him." His jaw was clenched.

John went to his son's side. "Are you all right?"

"Dad." The word wavered slightly. "You have to find Sammy. Please."

He rested his hand on his son's shoulder before he and Bill continued down the trail. Jim helped Dean to his feet, his arm around the boy's shoulder. Jim pulled a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on. A piece of the thorn bush was deeply imbedded in Dean's palm, blood oozed from around the wound.

"Let's get you back to the house."

"No." Dean pulled the thorn from his hand with a wince, the blood ran faster. "We have to find my brother."

"Dean." Jim's voice was calm. "That needs to be cleaned out, you know that as well as I do."

"And what about Sam?" The pain sharpened as adrenaline faded.

"Your dad and Bill won't let anything happen to him." Jim guided Dean back towards the house. "Right?"

Dean nodded. "But I was suppose to protect him."

Jim knew there wasn't anything he could say that would help Dean. The two broke from the darkness of the woods and headed for the house. Dean glanced back at the trees and hoped that they would find Sam in time.

Sam's eyes slowly drifted open. The creature knelt a few feet away, its eyes closed and hands open at its side. It was as if it knew when Sam woke.

"I don't want to kill you, yet." It smiled. "I want to savor your taste for I don't think I will ever find anything like it again."

It took the boy a while to become aware of his surroundings, the dark trees and damp ground. He shivered, his right arm bathed in blood. The fireflies drifted lazily around them both, in and out of the darkness in some unknown Morris code. The creature held out its hand and a firefly settled in his palm.

He smiled maliciously. "They're not really fireflies. Just look like it, the perfect way to bring you to me. Amazing how easily you fall under a little magic."

"What are they?" Sam whispered.

"Just light." It smiled at the boy. "Ironic that I could bring you to me with light."

Sam tried to sit up, but it was hard to move. "Who are you?"

"Dearg-dul." He murmured. "Not that it really matters to you."

"My dad's going to come and he's going to kill you." His bottom lip trembled.

"He'll be too late." It moved quickly, suddenly in front of Sam with his strong hands pinning the boy's wrists to the ground. "I want to know what fear tastes like in your blood."

It brought Sam's wrist to its lips again and bit. Sam tried to stay awake, to fight, but everything blurred to black.

John grew more anxious with each passing second. Guilt burned in his chest for falling asleep, for not keeping an eye on his boy. Bill glanced over at John and knew his thoughts.

As a father, he understood John. "We'll get him back."

"I failed him."

"No, you're just up against something with a few more good cards in its hand. Sam will be all right."

The two silently moved through the trees, eyes open for anything that would tell them they were moving in the right direction. The fireflies grew thicker in the bushes and along the trail. It took John a moment to realize that they were nothing but flickering light.

"Bill." His voice no louder than the breeze.

Bill looked to what John pointed to and understood. They were close.

Dean sat at the kitchen table as Jim carefully wiped away the quick flowing blood. Dean winced as Jim expertly removed the splinters and dirt before he dabbed the wound with peroxide. The boy sucked in a breath at the pain and reflexively jerked his hand back. The boy was distracted, anxious. He kept looking to the windows in hope that he'd see his father and brother. Jim finished and wrapped gauze around Dean's hand.

"We should go back out and look." Dean headed for the door.

Jim took the boy's arm. "Dean, there are five very well trained hunters out there. Your dad wouldn't want to risk your safety."

"But I have to find Sam, to make up for…for losing him."

Jim took Dean by the shoulders and met the boy's worried eyes. "You didn't lose him, he was taken. Do you understand the difference?"

Dean nodded. He looked down at his hand, blood had soaked through the bandage and it throbbed painfully. For a moment he was reminded of a stigmata and then scoffed at the idea; he couldn't even save his little brother.

When John and Bill entered the unnatural clearing, the dearg-dul looked up startled. It's mouth came away bloody, Sam's little arm still in it's grip.

It smiled, fangs red with blood. "A few more minutes and you'd have been too late." Sam's blood ran from his wrist. "Though, you still might be."

"Dearg-dul." Bill whispered.

John nodded once and reached for his silver knife. He was mentally flipping through the pages of his journal, remembering what had to be done, but his attention was focused on his son. Sam was pale, still, blood covered and ran from his arm. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought his little boy was already gone, but then he caught the rapid, shallow rise and fall of his chest.

It stood, still too close to Sam for him to be rescued. "There's something about him, something different. I like it."

"Right." Bill brushed him off, but John was listening.

Without wasting another moment, Bill started reciting a binding and John threw the knife. The dearg-dul froze, held by the silver and binding. The faux-fireflies faded from the air and the woods grew darker.

Sam's eyes drifted open, dazed and pain filled. "Daddy?" He was barely heard over the silence in the woods.

John started for his son, but Bill held him back. "John, you'll break the spells."

Bill pulled a length of silver chain from a belt loop and moved forward. John's mind went blank, the only thing he could think to do was save his son. Bill threw the chain over the dearg-dul and it collapsed to the ground under the weight. Bill was tense, in hunt mode; John should have been.

"John, get Sammy back to the house and send Bobby and the others out here."

John darted forward and picked up his son from the ground. Sam shivered in his father's arms, his little body cold as he grabbed fistfuls of John's shirt.

"Daddy." Sam half sobbed.

John held him closer. "You're safe now, I'm right here." He moved quickly through the woods.

He could feel the blood soak through his shirt, his son's blood, and it broke his heart. Sam was half conscious and he shivered. After what seemed like too long, the lights of the house came into view. John sprinted up the steps and into the living room. Dean and Jim were at his side in a second.

John eased Sam into his brother's arms and pulled Jim aside. "Get a hold of Bobby, everyone." He looked up at his son. "Dearg-dul, about a mile in towards the east, needs to be dealt with."

"How's Sam?" Jim rested his hand on John's shoulder.

"I don't know."

"He'll be okay, John." He stepped from the house and ran towards the woods.

John gently took Sam from Dean's protective arms. Sam's eyes were closed, his breathing light.

"Dad?" Dean managed to keep most of the worry from his voice.

"Bring the first-aid kit to the room. We have to get him warm." John turned down the hall.

When Dean came into the bedroom, Sam was on the bed. John had his hand tightly clamped around the puncture marks on Sam's arm to keep the blood from spilling out. Dean swallowed, and opened the first-aid kit next to his brother on the bed.

"Dean, sit behind your brother and hold him. Tell me how he's doing." John's words were quiet and firm.

Dean carefully climbed up on the bed and eased his little brother into his lap. Sam sighed from pain and Dean pulled the blanket up. He took his little brother's icy fingers in his and felt them tighten.

"You're okay, Sammy." Dean wrapped his arm around his brother.

John looked into Dean's eyes, saw fear and relief that mirrored his own, and took a breath.


	5. Retribution

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Answers and a little John Winchester revenge – cause we all love that.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Sam is 7, and Dean is 11

-/\-SN-/\-

John cleaned the blood from his son with gentle, almost tentative hands. He kept looking up at his boys, looking for any response from Sam and to read Dean. The blood still flowed, though not as quickly as before. John cleaned the multiple bites, four, Sam was bitten four times, and it broke John's heart. Sam shifted slightly as peroxide was dabbed over the wounds, but the boy didn't wake.

After Sam was bandaged and taken care of, John ducked out of the room for a second. He returned with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. He carefully took off Sam's shirt and shorts. John wiped the dirt from Sam's face and body. He would clean one arm and then carefully tuck it back under the blanket before moving to the next. Sam still shivered, but it was nearly stopped.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Dean whispered as John finally leaned back in the chair.

"For what?" He looked into his son's eyes.

Dean brushed Sam's hair back. "He disappeared on my watch."

"Dean, I was the one watching over him."

"But I should have known."

"You saved him, Dean." John reached over and squeezed Dean's arm. "Woke me up, so we could get to him. Okay?"

Dean nodded and shifted Sam in his lap a little. The little boy tangled his fingers in his older brother's shirt in his sleep.

"John." Bobby stood in the doorway.

John glanced at his boys before he joined his friend in the hall.

"How's Sam?"

He ran a hand over his face. "I think he'll be okay."

Bobby nodded, his eyes solemn. "We're going to set out to find the grave and finish this."

John hesitated, took a slow breath. "I'm going with you."

"Your boys."

"_I_ need to protect them, Bobby, and anything that goes after them will have to deal with me." His hands were clenched at his sides.

"There's an abandoned farm not too far away, most likely the grave is there."

John nodded. "Give me a minute." He went back into the room.

Dean looked up from Sam. "What about him?"

John ran his hand over Sam's face, smiled a little as his boy turned into the touch. "This is for him."

"He needs you here."

He looked up into his Dean's eyes. "Not when he has you." He paused. "How's your hand?"

John took Dean's bandaged hand and checked the wound. Jim had done a good job, as usual.

"Ellen's coming back, with Jo. They should be here in ten, fifteen minutes. You'll be okay until then?"

"Yes, sir." Dean nodded. He relaxed some that he wouldn't be alone.

"I'll be back soon." John stood and winked at Dean. He placed a silver knife on the table next to the water.

Dean ran a hand through his brother's hair. Sam was warmer, but still deathly pale. Dean wasn't sure if he was asleep or unconscious, but he was safe, so little else mattered at the moment. He heard the footsteps downstairs, the slam of a door and then silence. Sam shifted in Dean's arms, moved so he could shove his thumb in his mouth.

He pulled the blankets tighter around his little brother. "You're okay, Sammy."

He heard a door open and then close. He reached for the knife and tensed, waited.

"Dean, it's me, Ellen." She called down the hall.

Dean let go of the breath he was holding and let go of the knife. Ellen appeared in the doorway, Jo asleep in her arms. She carefully placed her daughter on the cot in the room and pulled a blanket over her.

She sat down next to Dean on the bed. "How's he doing?"

"Okay." He looked down at his brother with a small shrug.

"Do you need anything?"

Dean shook his head.

"I'll just stay here with you, then." She put her arm around him.

"Okay." Dean whispered, grateful.

John, Bobby, Caleb, Joshua, Bill and Jim moved silently through the woods. Bill had the dearg-dul wrapped in the chain still and pulled it along. The darkness was fading as the pre-dawn started to take hold. Everything was blurred in misty colors of gray. A link of the chain broke as the dearg-dul's power ate away at it. Silver was only a stall, not a solution. The group picked up its pace.

"That little boy of yours is something else." It taunted John, smiled when it saw him tense.

John fell back towards Bill, but didn't look at it.

"I knew before I first tasted him." It coughed. Blood and a small fleck of silver ran down its chin. "He's special, John, did you know that?"

John glanced back, his eyes on the dearg-dul for a second.

It smiled. "I think you did know. The way he tasted, John, like nothing else I've-" The words were literally knocked from its mouth by John's fist.

Without explanation, without a word, John turned back to the trail like nothing had ever happened. Bill almost said something, but thought better of it.

"I have a theory that tonight might be my last night." It paused. "I'd be okay with that, I don't think anything else has ever tasted anything close to what flows in your boy." The knife fell from its chest, the blade corroded away a few inches from the handle. "Then again, maybe I'll be able to finish him after all."

"Bobby, how much further?" Bill called up.

"Minute or so." He called back.

The abandoned farmhouse loomed out of the early morning fog. Its windows were empty and black, the yard overgrown and barren. A barn was collapsed nearby, the roof gone with only a few portions of walls left. The grass tugged and snagged around the mens' boots as they moved forward. John and Bill stood guard as the others spread out to look for the abandoned grave.

Joshua yelled from near the barn. "Here."

The others rushed to him. The grave was shallow and fresh, yeah, that was it. If the dearg-dul knew it was in its final minutes, it didn't react. John pulled his knife from his belt, the silver glinted in the weak light for a second before he jammed it in the creature's back.

"That's for my boy." He muttered.

The dearg-dul stumbled as it was pushed into the ground. Dirt and rock was piled on the still form, it didn't even bother to fight.

Jim placed sprigs of holly between the heavy stones. "Ego redimio vos ut orbis terrarum ut abhors vos, terra ut nunquam habitum vos. Permissum orbis terrarum vindicatum vos, perussi vestry viscus quod reverto vos pessum ut iam mos habitum vos per infinitio."

By the time the sun had fully formed above the horizon, a cairn of stones had been erected over the body of the dearg-dul. With the binding spell and the holly, it would no longer be able to break from the ground and feed, and without feeding, it would decay and disappear.

The weary group trudged back towards Bobby's, eager to put the night behind them. They wanted nothing more than a shower and a bed for a few hours.

Jim rested his hand on John's shoulder. "You did good, John."

"He shouldn't have been taken." His voice was gritty with fatigue.

"As much as you try, you can't protect them from everything, but you do a damn good job."

John laughed. "Keep using language like that, and you'll have to see your self in confession."

"Surely an influence of my friends."

John let the smile fade from his face. He wanted to see his boys, wanted to see for himself that Sam was all right; maybe then some of the guilt would ease away, maybe.

-/\-sn-/\-

Latin translation: "I bind you to the earth that abhors you, the soil that could never hold you. Let the earth claim you, consume your flesh and return you to the ground that now will hold you through eternity."

I made up the binding spell, so yeah…..writer's creative license.

Dearg-due (alternate spelling Dearg-dul) – a ghastly vampiric creature with bat wings. (irish)

I did not make up the dearg-dul.


	6. Moving Forward

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Awe, fluffy ending – just as promised. Hope there wasn't too much fluff, this one was considerably more fluffy than the other stories I've done.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Sam is 7, and Dean is 11

-/\-SN-/\-

Most of the group collapsed on the living room furniture. As much as John's weary body wanted nothing more than to sink into Bobby's well-worn couch, he had to see his boys. He climbed the stairs with the silent footsteps of the hunter he was and leaned around the doorway.

Dean was half asleep with Ellen's arm around his shoulders, an open book in her other hand. Sam was protectively held across his older brother's lap. Dean smiled when he saw his dad in the doorway. She looked up and smiled as well before she moved to the bed that held her sleeping daughter. John was grateful that she had been there for his boys.

John silently crossed the room and eased himself next to his boys. "How's he doing, Dean?"

"Hasn't woken up yet." He did a good job at hiding the worry. "Did you get it?"

"Yes." John carefully moved Sam into his arms.

Sam turned towards John's chest in his sleep, his thumb still in his mouth. He put his arm around Dean and pulled his other boy close.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Dean." John kept his voice low.

Dean shook his head, he was determined to stay awake and watch over Sam.

"It's gone, Dean. Nothing's going to hurt Sammy. Okay?"

"I'm sorry, dad."

John sighed a little. "And it's still not your fault. None of it. Are we square on that?"

"Yes, sir." Dean smiled.

"Now get some sleep."

Dean looked over at Sam before he stretched out on the bed. John didn't move, he wanted to be near his boys for the time being.

After a few hours, Sam shifted in his father's arms and he opened his eyes.

John looked down and smiled. "How are you feeling, Sammy?"

"Thirsty." He whispered.

Sam still clung to John as he leaned forward for the glass of water. After Sam had finished the water, he shifted so that he was on his father's lap more.

John wrapped his arms around his boy. "Do you remember the dark thing that took you, Sammy?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, it's all gone and it can never hurt you again. Okay?"

He nodded again. "I was scared." He whispered.

John found it almost ironic in that all he has seen and done, those three simple words could break his heart like they did. "You don't have to be scared any more."

"Can I still sit with you and Dean?"

"Of course, Sammy."

Sam snuggled himself into the crook of John's arm and slipped back asleep. John looked over at saw that Dean had woken as well, probably the same moment that Sam had. He and Dean exchanged a small smile before Dean moved so that he could wrap his fingers around Sam's.

--

Since all the hunters were still at Bobby's as the evening approached, the decision to extend the gathering was quickly made. So now they all had another story to tell next time, another successful hunt. They didn't talk about it much that night, it was all still too current, to fresh.

Sam sat on the top step of the porch, under the light. He watched the conversations and heard the laughter of the people that he had grown up with. Dean noticed the extra protections placed around the yard as he dug in the cooler for a bottle of root beer for himself and his brother. He left the group and sat down next to Sam. He passed his younger brother a bottle of root beer.

Jo ran up to them, her eyes bright. "Let's play tag."

Dean glanced over at Sam.

"Dean, you can go. I don't want to." He pulled his hands into the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

Dean looked back at Jo and smiled. "Maybe later." He watched her run back towards her parents.

A firefly faded in and out of the bushes near the house. Dean noticed how Sam tensed as if he was ready to run.

Dean slipped an arm around his brother's shoulders. "You don't have to be afraid, Sammy."

"I'm not afraid." He whispered, his eyes on the blinking light.

"Want to go down and sit by dad?"

Sam shook his head. He liked sitting under the light, liked seeing where the darkness started, as clear as a line he could avoid. Dean knew that Sam would figure out the fear on his own, but that was a battle that Dean couldn't fight for him. Sam watched the firefly drift away and sighed a little.

Dean suddenly got an idea. "Sam, I'll be right back, okay?"

Sam watched as Dean ran into the house. His older brother returned a few seconds later with something hidden in his sweatshirt pocket. He stepped down the porch steps.

"Wait." Sam stood.

Dean stopped and turned at the panic in Sam's voice. "I'm okay, Sammy." He took a step back, into the darkness. "See?"

Sam gripped the railing.

Dean kept walking backwards, towards the group of hunters. "Can you still see me here?"

Sam nodded.

"I'll stay right where you can see me."

"Be careful." Sam whispered.

Dean kept one eye on his brother as he carefully guided a few fireflies into the jar he had in his pocket.

"…John, you seemed pretty interested in what it had to say." Bill's comment was relaxed, but there were undertones that even Dean caught.

John was about to take a drink, he lowered the bottle half way. "Not really."

"Bull shit, John, and you know it." Bill leaned forward.

Dean paused to listen, his eyes on Sam sitting on the porch.

Bill took a drink. "I heard it too, said Sam was special somehow."

"Things lie, Bill." John tried again to deflect the comment.

"Yeah, but I never saw you listen to the lies." Bill sighed. "I get it, if it were Jo in Sam's place, I'd listen too. That's not what caught my attention."

"So what did?" John felt his back tighten, leave it to hunters to find something he wanted to keep hidden.

"You weren't surprised."

John turned to him, met his eyes. "You're my good friend, Bill, but I'd appreciate it if you let me keep some things in my family." His tone was final, end of discussion.

Bill leaned back, let another, less serious, conversation start before he added so only John could hear. "If there is something different, special, about Sam, then I'd keep a close eye on him. From the sounds of it, things out there already know about him. That's the father speaking in me, John, not the hunter."

John nodded once and took a drink. He glanced back at the house and saw Sam still sitting on the top step, his arm wrapped around the railing. Dean stood and tightened the lid on the jar. John knew he was there, knew he heard.

As Dean tried to slink away, John caught his arm. "Don't tell your brother what you heard."

"What exactly did I hear?" He glanced at Sam.

"Things I don't want Sam knowing."

Dean met his father's eyes. "Special how, dad? Special like what you do?"

John looked into his son's eyes. "I don't know for sure. Promise me that you won't tell him."

"I promise." Dean whispered, though he didn't know why other than he saw the brief flicker of the fear of unknown in his dad's eyes.

He smiled at his son. "How's Sam doing?"

"Scared." He smiled. "But I'm gonna fix it."

"Okay." He squeezed Dean's arm before he left.

Dean ran back to his brother, the jar of fireflies behind his back. Sam smiled out of relief at his brother's return. Dean sat down next to him, the jar out of Sam's sight.

"What did you get?" Sam asked.

"Do you trust me?"

"Course." Was the automatic reply.

Dean paused. "I promise you won't get hurt. I'll be right here, okay?"

Sam nodded, a little more wary now. Dean slowly brought the jar of fireflies around. Sam moved away from it until his back was against the railing.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean kept his voice low, his hands on the jar. "I'm just going to let them sit here for a little bit."

He wanted to run back into the house, but knew that Dean was trying to help. Sam took a breath, kept one eye on the jar of fireflies and reached for his older brother's hand.

"The ones that the bad-dark thing had, weren't real." Sam whispered, his voice barely louder than the breeze and his eyes on the jar. "He showed me."

That was the first thing he had said after nearly a half hour of silence.

"These ones are real." Dean smiled.

"Are you sure?"

Dean carefully unscrewed the lid. Sam moved back another inch or two. Dean held one of the fireflies in his hand as he put the lid back on to keep the others from escaping.

"Give me your hand, Sammy." Dean's voice was confidant and he smiled.

Sam held out his open hand. Dean eased the firefly onto Sam's fingers. The little boy tensed, but held still. Dean saw the slight tremor of his little brother's hand. The firefly crawled over Sam's hand, blinking as it went. Slowly a smile found it's way back onto Sam's face. He looked up and met Dean's eyes.

"See?" Dean smiled because Sam was.

The firefly flew away and blinked in the night. Sam watched it with Dean's arm around him.

"It's a lot littler than you are, and it's not afraid." Dean whispered.

Sam looked over at his older brother.

"Wanna go sit by dad?"

Sam looked at the jar of fireflies. "Can we bring them with?"

Dean smiled. "Only if you carry them."

The two boys stepped off the deck. A jar of fireflies in the hands of the youngest, cutting through the darkness like the hopeful beam of a lighthouse. Sam carefully set the jar down and climbed up onto John's lap. Dean took a chair beside them.

John looked over at Dean. They both knew that it'd be a while before any of them would sleep through the night, whether it was Sam's terrified voice in the dark, or their own fears causing them to make sure that the little boy was still in his bed where he belonged. It didn't matter so much. Dean would be there to slowly show Sam that there wasn't anything to be afraid of, even when there was – but Sam didn't have to know about that now.


End file.
